Stealing flowers from my grave
by sadness1986
Summary: Follows "Carved in stone" WARNING: angst, incest, blasphemy, insanity, violence, rape, play piercing, bondage, suicide, murder, character death This one is rated NC-20, means, you better be 21, if you wanna read it.


TITLE: Stealing Flowers from my Grave (Sequel to "Carved in stone)  
AUTHOR: Sadness1986 PAIRING: Matt Hardy/ Shannon Moore, Matt Hardy/ Jeff Hardy RATING: NC-20 WARNING: angst, incest, blasphemy, insanity, violence, rape, play piercing, bondage, suicide, murder, character death SUMMARY: And there you were stealing flowers from my grave... Jeff's POV

Shannon looks like an angel, but his eyes... I have no name for the colour, they are burning with... His tattooed hands are picking up pieces of me and his pink tongue tastes them briefly before putting them back to their places.  
He knows no forgiveness and no mercy. When he speaks he says nothing. Just opening his mouth and sounds are coming out without meaning.  
But in Shannon's eyes I can see his memories, on my skin I can read them, because they are ours. He claims, that he is sane, but he's just empty and tries to fill himself with my cum, tries to revive himself under my touch and curls up at my feet too sleep at night like a dog.  
He craves for love and approval, craves for gentleness and care, freezing under my caresses and staring at me open mouthed at the foreign sensation.  
Shannon is so easy to love, but I can't give him, what he wants until we have our revenge.  
Until we have cleaned each other in my brother's pain.  
Until we are stealing flowers from Matt grave and I feed them to my fallen angel petal by petal like holy communion on his tongue...

He knows no shame, writhing on my brother's bed and moaning like a bitch in heat while pleasuring himself with two fingers up his ass.  
Matt looks down on his pale form and hesitates. He sees the change, sees heavy muscle on those fragile bones, sees physical strength displayed with every move. Shannon is no little boy no more, just his face is still the same. Angelic and soft features stripped of all innocence.  
But finally Matt falls into temptation. Falls right between those strong and pale thighs, that immediately wrap around his waist and trap him, his erect cock just an inch away from this delicious tight heat I know so well.  
Shannon smiles. It hurts to look at it. I turn away. It splits his face apart and makes his eyes go so empty, that they can suck souls into their depths.  
Matt's strangled gasp doesn't surprise me.  
Close enough to fuck is close enough to fight.  
Shannon doesn't lie back and take it anymore.  
Legs snakelike, he slowly squeezes the air out of my brother.  
With every exhale, they squeeze tighter, soon their will no room left in lunges to unfold.  
Shannon laughs.  
It sounds like glass shattering.  
Like a pearl necklace breaking and the spheres falling to the ground.  
Matt's hands desperately claw at Shannon's hair, his face, his chest, but he doesn't give in.  
I watch his muscles ripple under his tanned skin, watch his sweat-drenched dark hair clinging to his face, watch his haunted dark eyes cloud over, watch him going limp.  
Finally Shannon rolls over, straddling my brother and unhooking his legs again, rising gracefully an stretching them lazily like a cat.

We roll Matt over on his belly and Shannon takes out a large metal case from under the bed. I've his it there yesterday. He carefully opens it and his eyes sparkle in the cool glint of its secrets made of surgical steel.  
Now I know, which colour his eyes are... just the same as those needles and as fierce as the pain they cause.  
He takes out seven pairs of steel rings. Thick and large. A pair for every year of torment.  
Shannon sighs softly and caresses them.  
His art is beyond my abilities. I paint on canvases and walls, I draw on paper, I sculpt with wood, aluminium and duct tape. He carved pictures into skin and makes sculptures of flesh and steel.  
His art lives and writhes in pain under his beautiful skilled hands.

I watch mesmerised how the first needle slowly pierces through the flawless skin of my brother's back.  
Soon there are seven pairs of them in two rows to the left and to the right side of his spine.  
Then Shannon mercilessly and agonising slowly replaces them with the rings.  
They are large enough to put three fingers through them.  
There's not much blood, but he leans down and licks it off as soon as the first crimson droplets surface, painting his lips in red and his teeth, I can see it, when he looks at me and smiles.  
I sit down next to him and he carefully pries my mouth open with strong fingers digging into my jaw muscles and leans over me, giving me the Holy Wine, a mixture of blood and saliva dripping out from his tainted lips.  
The coppery taste is oddly comforting...

He places another pair of rings right over Matt's Achilles tendons, another pair on his wrists and right over his hipbones.  
I help him to raise Matt's legs as far as they can go. Soles hovering over his lower back and Shannon slides a thin but strong black rope through the first pair of rings right below the neck and attaches it to the metal pierced through the ankles.  
My brother looks like a scorpion now. The arch of his back painfully graceful and the surgical steel tugs on his skin.  
Shannon's nimble hands lace the ropes through the rows of surgical steel along the vertebras, like lacing up a boot and finally he crosses Matt's arms behind his back.  
Tying his left wrist to the right hipbone and the right to the left hipbone.  
It's beauty.  
It's pain.  
It's breath taking.

Matt's legs are widely forced apart to take the strain off, he can't move or fight without ripping through his own flesh.  
It's a symbol.  
He's caught within himself.

Shannon's fingers tangle in the rope and he pulls it sharply.  
Matt's answering scream makes my skin tingle... I already feel the filth he bathed me in falling off me...

He whimpers softly.  
He pleads.

More metal glinting in the light.  
Scalpels.

Their colour reflected again in Shannon's cold eyes.  
The sharp steel cuts Matt's skin, but those eyes cut right into his mind.

The cuts aren't deep.  
But many.

Red is the only colour I can see.  
Red bathed the steel.  
Shannon's pale skin.  
The bed.  
The floor.  
The blades.  
Matt's tanned skin.

There's no square inch unharmed except Matt's face, turned to me, his wide dark eyes pleading me for help first.  
Then for mercy.  
Then for an end.  
I don't move.  
I don't blink.  
I just watch.

Shannon plays him like an instrument.  
Produces long howls.  
Short gasps.  
Choked whimpers.  
Agonised wails.  
With every pull on the ropes.  
With every stroke of his blades.

I watch Matt squirm, watching him tugging on those cruel piercings.  
His restricted movements are all grace... all beauty.  
Shannon made him perfect.  
A living piece of art.

Shannon's eyes shine again. The red chased the thunder clouds away, that covered those vibrant blue skies.  
I get up and kneel down next to him, licking the blood of his skin.  
It looks new.  
Clean.  
Unsoiled.

With both hands I reach out for my baptism, gather it from my brother's body and smear it all over mine.

Shannon takes the rope in both hands and drags Matt upright on his knees with it, balancing his body against mine.  
I lovingly wrap my arms around my brother's torso and lick his nipples.  
He whimpers softly and whispers my name.

Shannon embraces us both, his hands clawing at my shoulder blades, Matt's form trapped between us and thrusts into my brother's tensed and twisted body.

Matt's tears are falling down on me and I open my mouth to catch them on my tongue.  
Salty and bitter, but so sweet to me...

He gives up fighting.  
He gives up screaming.

He just hangs his head and weeps silently.  
His body rocks with every forceful thrust of Shannon's hips.

I feel my little angel's hands tightening their grip on me.  
He's close.  
It's my turn soon.  
I can't wait to find myself in the bleeding depths of my brother.  
What will it be like to be whole again?

Shannon cuts the rope into pieces.  
Matt's arms and legs fall limply down from their twisted position to the mattress.  
He's trembling. Sore muscles protesting and adrenaline still singing in his veins.

His blood dried on his skin. Rusty flakes rub off him.  
On the insides of his thighs they have a pink tinge.  
Mixed with our cum.

Tattooed hands remove the piercings.

Matt slowly rises on his knees, hiding his face behind blood soiled stiff dark strands.  
Shannon mercilessly grabs his hair and forces his head back, looking into his terrified dark eyes and finding, what he was looking for all of those years.  
He shows me.

I see Matt.  
Just Matt.  
My brother.  
Who I used to adore and love unconditionally.

I lean down and kiss his lips.  
He whimpers softly.

Shannon smiles and whispers into his ear.  
Matt nods.

We clean his house and leave.  
One gunshot rips through the silence of the night.  
I light a cigarette and Shannon smiles at me, his eyes blue like the moonlight.

A red rose for a lover.  
A yellow for a friend.  
A white for the dead.

Shannon's perfect white teeth grind them to shreds and he laughs.  
It sounds like glass shattering.  
Like a pearl necklace breaking and the spheres falling to the ground.  
I slide the barrel of Matt's Glock between those pink lips. I took it out of my brother's cold hands, out of the scattered remains of his head.  
Shannon licks and sucks it like a cock.  
Little slut.  
I've never loved you.  
I squeeze.

It happens in slow motion.  
Shannon looks so happy before his face explodes. He falls down... backwards with wide spread arms. Not even in death he can fly.

I lie down next to my brother, curling up against his slowly cooling body and lay my head on his chest listening to the silence of his heartbeat.

Flowers

I had a dream, far away from here,  
Far away from you, far from all the pain.  
With strength in numbers, the sad betrayal braves,  
Return to desecrate those memories again.  
And there you were taking flowers from my grave.  
And there you were stealing flowers from my grave.  
I kiss the ground but I can hardly breathe,  
As you scrape me from the pavement once again.  
Safety in numbers, you thought I'd washed away,  
But I'm still waiting for the rain... 


End file.
